Musings About Fear
by Grumpy1
Summary: ONESHOT (very short), First person, Draco's viewpoint. What does he fear and does he even care?


Fear.

It's such a general term...

Is it possible to lump together what shocks you, what hurts you, what chills you...into one word?

Those silly journalists shove their ugly mugs into my face with parchment and quills, demanding an interview with me, their superior.

I sneer and they get the hint.

Then you have the one stupidly brave prat who shouts a question, an embarrassingly pansy type of question by the way; "What is it that you fear most Mr. Malfoy?"

Upon glimpsing my manly disgust at such a question, I do believe I heard some women swoon and a few men grunt in approval.

Do they take me for a fool?

What idiot would announce what makes your heart clench, what makes you involuntarily flinch...to the world?

They wouldn't understand real fear.

Most of them are sheltered babies who cry when they are afraid....who sob and plead for an immediate solution to the clawing within their chests.

I have never lived with fear.

But I do feel that gnawing sense of dread.

It is within me, mocking and biting at my mind and heart.

It is not easily soothed. There are no quick fixes for the bloody marks it leaves...or the scars that no one sees.

I have heard what people say...they say that I am untouchable...I am cruel, that I fear nothing but frighten others for entertainment.

That is what happens when you assume.

Yes I am cruel, and yes I frighten others but I don't do it for fun...sometimes. I can practically hear their hearts asking me; but what does Draco Malfoy fear? I fear, in a general sense at least. I eat away at the self esteem of others...at their courage and care free lives...because it is within those moments that I do not feel the strangling of my heart. That I do not cower to the pressure towering over me, where I do not hear the whispers or even brazen remarks aimed at me. It is then that I am where no one can hurt me. It is where the tables are turned and I do not have to cringe and feel the chills run up and down my spine.

Some believe I feared my father. Perhaps I did in a diluted sense. I found it hard to be terrified of the man who gave me life and raised me...or maybe I've convinced myself that he beat the fear out of me. I learned to handle those situations with a certain amount of grace. Then again it's a moot point speaking about him considering that the man is lying cold in the ground.

Now...the ten million galleon question is...do I fear Harry Wankerific Potter. Bluntly put, no I do not, you ponce. What could he do to me? Use a killing curse and have my handsome self haunting his nightmares for the rest of his forsaken life? Spare me.

I suppose I would translate a certain amount of fear into loneliness. You may laugh but then I'd be forced to kill you and your miserable family. When I say that I fear loneliness, it does not mean the lack of having another body near me. It means I dread not having someone to trust, someone to have an intellectual conversation with. Where would I be if there was no one to impart my incredible wit to?

You'd be surprised of how it lurks within me, playfully ripping apart my treasured barriers when I see a group of pathetic yet happy friends. People who can tolerate each other enough to relax and drop their walls...best mates. Companionship is something I want even if it was with ridiculously Gryffindor hearted gits. I swear if that ever leaks out to the public I'll toss myself off the Astronomy tower.

I am cocooned with shields...I'm so far in that I usually forget I am living in it. It's only times like these when I can remember what I truly fear.

I suppose that's why I'm grateful that the clawing lessens when she's near. My beautiful fire sprite does not know how she helps to keep me sane. I do not know if she will stay by me or be a fleeting solution, but for now...I am content.

Ah and she makes an appearance. Miss Ginevra Weasley. You'd be surprised how many times she's whacked me for teasing her about her hideous name. I can't bring myself to stick my tongue out as she does, though I'm rather tempted as she blows something she terms a 'raspberry,' at me. Her spittle is flying everywhere...I simply raise my eyebrow and point to a box of tissues. Her response is to roll her eyes and launch herself at me. You'd think I'd learn by now, but obviously I didn't, seeing that I've fallen backwards and to my embarrassment, let out an undignified yelp. As she smirks at me with twinkling eyes, I realize I no longer feel the sick clenching...and that I might possibly feel...happy.

Fear has no place here.


End file.
